Conflict of Interest
by YaminekoHyousai
Summary: Sly, now working for Interpol, finds that working on the right side of the law can be just as dangerous as stealing. SlyCarmelita, BentleyPenelope.
1. The Old Crab and the Sea

_ A/N: Hope you enjoy this. I'm also posting this story on my lj (yaminekohyousai)_

Ch.1: The Old Crab and the Sea

* * *

The fog rolled into the bay, giving the night an eerie quality to it. Waves lapped eagerly at the wharf as a group of muscled thugs worked tirelessly unloading crates from a rusted freighter. The captain stood at the top of the ship's gangplank, a large and particularly nasty looking fiddler crab. He had a pipe clutched in his mandibles, from which emitted thin plumes of gray smoke. 

The crab's eye swiveled to one side, falling on a nearby wharf rat who seemed to be struggling with one of the crates.

"Careful, ye basket-hilted bottom feeder! That cargo's worth more'n yer hide."

The rat set down the crate as neatly as he could, then nodded.

"Of course Mr. Cuttlefish, I'll be more care-"

The crab scuttled down the gangplank at high speed, coming to rest before the crewman.

"What was that ye said, pray tell? I'm not so good at hearin'."

The crewman gulped.

"I was just saying, Mr. Cuttlefish, that-"

"Ach, there, ye said it again," Mr. Cuttlefish interrupted.

"Sir?"

Cuttlefish retrieved the pipe from his mouth with his smaller claw. He then threw his larger claw around the rat's shoulder like they were old friends.

"Ye're new to my crew, aren't ye…Mr…Scrap, was it?"

A nearby sea lion shook his head ruefully as he overheard the conversation. The unfortunate Scrap just nodded.

"I'm not one fer too much formality, Mr. Scrap. Ye can refer to me as 'Cap'n' or 'Chief' or even 'Silas'."

Silas emptied his pipe by striking it against his larger claw before speaking again. Scrap blanched as an ember or two came too close for comfort.

"But the one thing I will not stand t'be called by any man, living or dead…"

An almost inaudible whine escaped Scrap's lips as the captain suddenly seized his arm in a vice grip.

"Is CUTTLEFISH!"

With a bellow, Silas Cuttlefish raised his claws into the air, lifting the rat high over his head. Pivoting on his legs, he flung Scrap fifteen feet through the air. The unfortunate projectile collided with a heavy crate, crumpling into a dazed heap.

Silas began calmly refilling his pipe. "That was yer only warning, lad. Do I make myself clear?"

Scrap managed a shaky salute. "Aye-aye…Cap'n."

The fiddler crab's eyes glinted as he replaced the newly-lit pipe in his mouth.

* * *

A solitary figure watched the scene unfold from a hiding place atop a nearby warehouse. He turned and leapt silently to a stack of crates, and from the crates to the ground. Quick purposeful strides soon brought him to another warehouse with far less activity. Spotting another figure standing in the shadows, he waved. 

His partner glanced up, the tension on her face easing.

"What's the report?"

"Well, let me put it this way," he answered, a slight smirk on his face. "It doesn't look like you're going to be bored any longer, Carmelita."

Carmelita Fox nodded, resisting the urge to smile. "So it's him, then."

"No question," Sly jerked his thumb back the way he came. "Looks like Silas brought in a big shipment this time."

Anticipating Carmelita's next question, he continued. "I saw what was in some of the crates. Looks like enough weapons to start a small war."

"We'll have to be careful, Sly," Carmelita said. "Cuttlefish is unpredictable. If we just charge in guns blazing we could have a full-scale battle on our hands."

"So, what's the plan?" Sly asked wryly. "Walk in there nice as you please and ask them to surrender?"

The fox smiled. "Something like that, Cooper. Something like that."

* * *

"The Captain's a bit sensitive, eh Smithy?"

Smithy, a grizzled Walrus and the oldest smuggler in the group, glanced up at the speaker. "Shut yer feathery gob, Bill, you addlebrained twit! You trying to make him mad?"

The seagull shrugged his greasy shoulders. He scratched at a bald patch on the side of his head.

"It's just, well, I mean, he really don't like bein' called by his last name, do he?"

"Right master of the obvious, that's what you are, Bill."

"I mean, if he don't like that name, why don't he just, I dunno…change it?"

Smithy snorted. "Why're you askin' me?"

"Well I mean, you've been with the crew the longest, eh?" Bill nodded sagely. "Thus, er, ipsy-factsy, you would have the, uh, greatest chance of knowin'."

Smithy snorted again and rolled his eyes. "It probably has somethin' to do with his mother," he grunted sarcastically.

"Oh, that makes sense," Bill said, satisfied.

The walrus leaned forward, grabbing the collar of the gull's stained jacket.

"Look, it doesn't matter why he doesn't like the name. You just need to know that he doesn't like it, and what he'll do t'you if you use it."

Smithy took a breath before continuing, his tone mimicking Bill's.

"Thus, _ipsy-factsy_, all you have to do is never say anything like-"

"FREEZE, CUTTLEFISH!"

All activity on the mist-shrouded dock suddenly ceased as twenty pairs of eyes swiveled toward the source of the voice. Carmelita Fox stood atop a pile of crates, shock pistol primed and ready.

"You and your crew are all under arrest."

Smithy winced and shook his head, glancing towards his captain, who appeared to be chewing his pipe in anger.

"I wish she hadn't said that."

Silas sputtered, then attempted to calm himself. Swallowing his anger (and nearly his pipe), the smuggler pointed at Carmelita with his large claw.

"Under arrest? Me dear, I haven't the foggiest idea what yer talkin' about. On what charges would ye be arrestin' me, then?"

Carmelita gestured towards some of the cargo being unloaded. "Let's try gunrunning, for starters."

"Gunrunning?" Silas's crusty face was the picture of innocence. "Now what would give ye that crazy idea, miss? What guns?"

At that moment, a nearby thug sneezed, accidentally knocking into one of the crates, which fell over and broke open. The contents, which seemed to consist of a number of machine guns, clattered to the wharf.

Silas scoffed and attempted to give Carmelita a sheepish smile, but wavered at the unamused expression on her face.

"Oh, _those_ guns," he said dryly, shooting a death glare at his clumsy cohort. "Those are me…personal firearms. Strictly fer defense, and…erm…hunting?"

"Nice try. Now, all of you, put those hands where I can see them!"

Silas slowly raised his claws halfway above his head, then paused. Shaking his head ruefully, he lowered his arms.

"Now, ye see, Miss Cop. There be a bit of a problem with that."

Carmelita tensed, glancing briefly down to one side before returning her gaze to the smuggler.

"Ye see, I'm just a humble man of the sea. Not a learned man by any means."

The crab puffed a particularly large cloud of smoke before continuing.

"But I can count," he growled, glaring at the Interpol officer. "There are twenty of us, and but one of you. Now, if I were a betting man, I wouldn't like those odds."

Carmelita smiled grimly, then let out a piercing whistle. All at once, uniformed police officers burst into view, weapons drawn and ready. The smugglers found themselves outnumbered more than two to one.

"Neither would I," Carmelita replied.

Sly Cooper made his way out of the shadows to stand at the base of his partner's platform.

"Now, if I were a betting man, Mr. Cuttlefish," Sly said, smiling as the crab stiffened in anger. "The smart money's on us."

Silas opened and closed his claws several times, eyestalks swiveling as he looked for an avenue of escape.

"I wouldn't recommend it, pal," Sly warned him.

"Bah! The devil take the lot of ye!" Silas sputtered, launching himself up the gangplank in a desperate scuttle.

Carmelita fired off a warning shot from her shock pistol. The blast impacted with the railing at the top of the gangplank, sending sparks flying near the fleeing crab. Silas burbled in alarm, and quickened his pace, ducking around one of the ship's bulkheads.

The other thugs made no move for weapons, and were quickly subdued by the police officers. All that remained was Silas Cuttlefish. Sly and Carmelita looked up at the freighter from the bottom of the gangplank. The swirling fog gave the ship a sinister appearance.

"He's got nowhere left to run."

Sly eyed the large number of crates visible on the ship's deck. "Plenty of places to hide."

"If we go in too hard, he'll panic," Carmelita shook her head. "And with all those weapons on board…"

Sly twirled his stun-baton in one hand. "Then we'll have to handle this more delicately."

* * *

Sly looked across the rusty ship's deck, which was deserted save for several rows of large crates and a one-man crane which seemed to be suspending an oversized crate marked 'Pineapples'. Unlike other parts of the ship, the crane seemed smooth and worn, as though it had seen constant use over the years. He made his way down one row of crates.

As he reached the end of the row, Sly heard a loud metallic click.

"DOWN!" he bellowed, flinging himself onto Carmelita. The two hit the ground as a burst of automatic fire thudded into the nearby crates at about head level. The two scrambled for cover, hiding behind another row of crates. Sly cursed and peeked out. There at the end of the row stood Silas Cuttlefish, a machine gun gripped tightly in his smaller claw.

"I won't be goin' down without a fight!" he whooped triumphantly. "Chew on these, you beetle-browed buffoons!"

Another hail of bullets soared towards the crouching cops. Carmelita waited until she heard a pause in the firing, then popped up and snapped off two shots with her pistol. The smuggler raised his claw in front of his face to ward of the shots, growling in pain as the electricity shot through his claw.

"You'll have to do better than that!"

A third shot came in fast, passing so close to the crab's eyestalks that he would have been blinded had he not instinctively retracted them.

"Arrrrgh!" Incensed, Silas opened fire again.

Carmelita dove for the ground to avoid Silas's counterattack. Looking up, she noticed Sly kneeling next to her.

"Any bright ideas?" she asked sarcastically.

Sly glanced quickly around the ship. He smiled. "Not especially. Think you can keep him busy?"

Several bullets impacted against the crate as Silas sprayed wildly.

"I think so."

"Good," Sly smiled, pointing towards the crane. "Cover me."

With that, Sly darted from behind the crates. Immediately, Silas swiveled, bringing his weapon to bear. Before he could pull the trigger, another volley of shock pistol rounds came his way, triggering a string of angry curses. Shaking the sparks from his vision and bringing his gun up again, Silas found that Sly had vanished. He gnashed his mandibles in irritation as another blast came his way.

Sly slid into the crane operator's seat on the bridge. He was in luck; the last operator of the crane had left it on. Casting a quick glance out at the deck, he began manipulating the controls.

Silas Cuttlefish stalked down the aisle of crates, idly loading his weapon with one claw and warding off electrical blasts with the other.

"Ye can't hurt me with that toy, missy! Surrender!"

His only answer was another shock pistol blast. Snarling in irritation, he cocked his weapon and opened fire, forcing Carmelita to dive out of the way again.

"All that dodgin'. Ye'll get tired eventually, lass."

Silas's gun ran dry again. Flipping it open, he began to methodically reload the weapon.

"One of my bullets is sure to find ye eventually. Law of averages, ye see."

A fully charged shock pistol round struck his upraised claw, forcing the smuggler back and causing him to grunt in pain.

"And I'm afraid it'll take more than some electroshock therapy to take down the likes of me."

Carmelita glared at him for a moment, then her eyes seemed suddenly drawn to something nearby.

At that moment, Silas finished reloading, closing the gun with a loud snap. A louder noise from above and to the side answered it. Silas looked up in confusion as the ship's crane flung its cargo in an arc towards him.

He had time for only one word.

"Bugger."

* * *

"You call that delicate?" Carmelita asked in an incredulous tone.

Sly looked down at Silas, who was now covered by the shattered crate's contents: hundreds of grenades, their explosive cores removed.

He shrugged.

Carmelita shook her head. "And where did you learn to operate a crane like that?"

Sly thought back to his adventures in the Australian outback. In particular, he recalled flinging exploding barrels at a 200 foot-tall Carmelita Fox.

"I don't remember," he lied, smiling apologetically.

Silas chose that moment to attempt to shakily rise to his feet, frothing at the mouth. Without giving him a second glance, Sly stuck his shock baton into a joint in the crab's armored claw and depressed a button. The smuggler went rigid as a jolt of electricity passed through his entire body. Sly held the button for a couple seconds before letting go, allowing the brute to crumple into a smoking, unconscious heap.

Carmelita prodded the criminal with her foot. "Well, I guess that's it. We should book this idiot and then call it a night."

Sly's smile had vanished. "Not quite."

"What do you-"

"None of the other officers came on board with us, right?"

"I don't think so."

Sly pointed back towards the stern. "Then why did I just see someone heading below deck?"

Carmelita brought up her pistol. "Shall we?"

The raccoon shook his head. "It's probably nothing. I'll check it out." Seeing Carmelita's unsure expression, he continued: "I'll be careful. You just secure this joker."

She sighed. "…Fine."

Sly quickly began heading for the hold.

"Sly?"

He looked back quickly. "Yeah?"

A wave of inscrutable emotion seemed to pass over Carmelita's face, but it quickly cleared.

"Be careful."

He gave a reassuring smile. "Always."

* * *

The hold was rusty and dimly lit.

_Silas sure doesn't take very good care of his ship._ Sly thought, swiping a finger along a grime-coated railing. A small fluttering moth banged itself against a nearby flickering light. Adjusting his eyes to the gloom, Sly slowly made his way deeper into the hold, watching carefully for any sign of movement. He soon reached the far side of the hold.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Guess I was just seeing things."

"_People are always seeing things, Sly Cooper_," a voice from behind him graveled. "_I, myself, see many things."_

Sly spun around in a flash, weapon at the ready. There, not ten feet in front of him, crouched a curious figure. Though he appeared male, Sly couldn't be sure of anything else about him, as his ornate black cape obscured most details. He seemed to be wearing a pure white suit, while a mismatched pair of gloves, one black, one white, covered the man's hands. The face was covered in an ornate silver and black mask, half-smiling and half-frowning. The masked man cocked his head to one side, regarding Sly.

"Who, who are you?" Sly asked once he recovered from his surprise.

"_Who am I?_" the figure asked, before lapsing into a short chuckle. "_I have asked myself that very question many times. It is certainly a question deserving some sort of answer. There are many cryptic and foolish-sounding answers I could give you, but I suppose a name would be answer enough._"

The masked man cocked his head the other direction. "_I am called Faust."_

Sly took a cautious step back. "And what are you doing here?"

"_Why, speaking to you, of course. I thought that would be obvious._"

"You know what I meant."

"_Indeed I do. You'll have to forgive me, Mr. Cooper. I was simply amusing myself._"

Something else had caught Sly's attention. "How do you know my name?"

"_I make it a point to know the names of interesting people, Sly Cooper. The last of the great Cooper thief clan, destroyer of the old bird…"_

"You're talking about Clockwerk." 

"_The man who, upon discovering the legacy of his family, gave up his old life for the love of a woman. How delightfully dramatic._"

Sly looked hard at Faust, who simply continued speaking.

"_From orphan, to master thief, to officer of the law. Oh, yes, you are indeed a most entertaining fellow!_" Faust turned his back to Sly, looking back over his shoulder. "_But still, I ramble. You were asking what I was doing here._"

When Sly did not reply, Faust continued. "_I am simply here to tell you to be careful._"

"That's it? That's why you lured me down here, to tell me to be _careful_?"

"_Yes,_" Faust answered, then began walking into the darkness. "_Things are about to get _very_ interesting. Past, present, future…I'd hate for you to be caught totally unprepared._"

Sly took a step towards the retreating figure. "Unprepared for what?"

In answer, Faust flipped a small object towards Sly, which he caught easily. "_That would spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?_"

Sly glanced at the object. It was a small steel medallion. Emblazoned on one side was a strange insignia: a skeletal face framed by four black wings. The other side had a symbol resembling a metal gauntlet. Sly studied it for a moment, then glanced up.

"What's this?"

But he was gone. An answer came back to Sly faintly, as though from a distance.

"_It is the answer, or perhaps the question. You'll figure it out. I have every confidence in you, Sly Cooper._"

Sly stared at the shadows that Faust had seemingly melted into for over a minute. A voice from above startled him.

"You all right?" Carmelita called. "What'd you find down there?"

"Oh, it…it was nothing," he replied, clenching the medallion as he slipped it into his pocket. "Just chasing shadows."

* * *


	2. Friends in High Places

_A/N: It feels good to finally get this story off the ground. It's been delayed for way too long. Feedback is appreciated, and point out anything I might have missed.  
_

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Friends in High Places**_

Chief Inspector Barkley let the papers drop to his desk with a loud thump.

"It's a slam-dunk," he said triumphantly. "You two got enough evidence to put Silas Cuttlefish away for a long, long time. You've done me proud, both of you."

Carmelita saluted. "Thank you, sir."

Sly saluted as well, though less crisply than Carmelita. His mind kept flashing back to his meeting with the mysterious Faust, and the strange medallion the man had given him. Faust's cryptic words had him somewhat on edge. Sly was so engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Barkley was speaking to him until Carmelita nudged him in the ribs. Hard.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, quickly realizing his faux pas. "Sorry, sir, I was distracted. What was that?"

Barkley laughed, waving off the apology. "No worries, son. I was just sayin' that you two could take a little break and catch up on some paperwork, seeing as I haven't decided on your new assignment yet."

"Oh boy," Sly remarked. He turned to Carmelita. "Sounds like a fun afternoon. Care to join me, Miss Fox?"

"I would be delighted," she replied.

Barkley nodded as the two left his office. He smiled, baring his teeth in a grin. The Cooper kid was doing damn good, especially for a rookie. The chief inspector then turned his attention to his own mountain of paperwork. However, before he could begin, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called gruffly.

The door swung open and a scowling wolf in a tan overcoat stalked in.

"Ah, O'Connell," Barkley nodded. "How can I help you?"

"He was just in here, wasn't he?" Remus O'Connell asked, a harsh edge to his voice. And then, after a brief pause he continued. "Sir."

"I'm not sure who you're talkin' about, Inspector," Barkley answered, raising an eyebrow at his subordinate's brusque tone.

"I'm talking about Cooper!" the inspector spat. "It's insane, I tell you!"

"Do tell," Barkley said dryly, steepling his fingers.

"Why is Interpol accepting Sly Cooper, a known criminal with a rap-sheet longer than most books on the New York Times Best-seller list, as one of its own?"

O'Connell punched the wall, causing Barkley to wince.

"Allowing a criminal like that into our midst…it's a time-bomb. Eventually, something'll blow and when it does," he jabbed a finger at Barkley. "It'll be the Clockwerk affair all over again."

"Some bombs are duds, O'Connell, if you'll pardon my borrowin' your metaphor," Barkley replied. "He's been doin' fine, and given the extenuatin' circumstances…"

O'Connell gave a mirthless laugh. "You're talking about his so-called amnesia? I don't believe that for an instant."

"It wasn't my decision to let him in," Barkley placated. "Though to be honest, I'm not too broken up about it. The final OK came from Chief Director Drake himself."

"Drake?" the Wolf cocked his head. "I guess that makes sense. Chief Drake's always been a bit eccentric, but still…what was he thinking?"

"Oh, my. My ears are burning," interjected a third voice, causing both men to turn towards the door.

There was a figure so tall he had to stoop to get through the doorway. The lion was dressed in a strange sky-blue suit and wore a pair of black leather gloves over his powerful hands. Chief Director of Interpol Damon Drake straightened up upon entering the room, adjusting the small rose-tinted spectacles on his face.

"Sir!" both men quickly saluted, which the lion casually returned.

Drake turned a friendly smiling face towards O'Connell. "You had something you wanted to talk to me about, Remus?"

"Well, sir, I…erm…" the Inspector seemed at a loss for words.

The lion clapped his gloved hands together, his expression still pleasant. "Come now, Remus. You seemed very concerned. Surely it's something you can discuss with your boss."

Remus O'Connell looked at Damon Drake like a deer in the headlights for a few seconds more, then his face hardened. Taking a deep breath, the wolf unleashed all his thoughts regarding instating a criminal as an officer of Interpol.

Drake seemed to listen intently, a placid smile on his face. After listening to the inspector for three minutes, he decided it was time to interrupt.

"Now, hold on," he said softly. "Wait."

O'Connell didn't seem to hear him. "And another thing-"

"_I said wait_."

The words, said with absolute calm, stopped O'Connell cold.

"Or didn't you hear me?" Drake asked, still smiling, but with a cold edge to his voice and eyes.

The coldness vanished just as soon as it appeared. "Anyway, you raised a number of good points, Remus."

O'Connell raised an eyebrow.

"But, honestly," the Chief wagged a finger. "Did you really think I hadn't thought of all those concerns of yours already?"

"If that's the case, sir," O'Connell protested. "Why would you allow a man like Cooper to join Interpol? It seems…"

"Crazy?" Drake offered. "Unwise, foolhardy, idiotic, all of the above." The wolf only shrugged. "From a certain standpoint, it is. But you see, I am capable of assessing risks and seeing a larger picture."

Drake glanced at Chief Inspector Barkley briefly, then moved briskly to a file cabinet in the corner of the room. "Let's first look at a number of prominent criminals brought to justice by Interpol."

"The relevance being?" O'Connell asked.

Pausing in his perusing of the file cabinet's contents, Drake merely fixed him with his gaze again. "Be patient, Remus."

He brought out a number of files, tossing each one onto Barkley's Desk. "Muggshot, Mz. Ruby, Don Octavio, Sir Raleigh, Rajan…just to name a few. All dangerous people. All brought to justice by Interpol officers. In every case I have mentioned, Sly Cooper has also been connected."

"So Cooper seems prone to hang around other criminals. With respect sir, that's not really that significant."

Barkley gaped at O'Connell's belligerence, but Drake merely smiled.

"It wouldn't seem so, if one does not look deeper. Studying these cases reveals that in every case, a conflict of sorts occurred between the Cooper Gang and the other criminals. Often, these conflicts helped uncover vital evidence for our investigation, or exhausted the criminal enough that they could be taken into custody practically without a struggle."

Chief Drake tapped the files meaningfully. "The Fiendish Five, the Klaww Gang, hardened criminals all. Sly Cooper and his gang were very resourceful. It makes one wonder: if they helped Interpol this much when on the run, imagine how effective they could be on this side of the law."

"And just how effective has he been?" O'Connell asked in a skeptical tone.

Barkley decided to give his input. "He's done damn fine workin' under Inspector Fox. They busted those diamond thieves in Marrakech, took down some smugglers in Costa Rica, and then managed to take down Silas Cuttlefish and his crew in San Francisco."

Drake gestured towards Barkley

"Jim here has also shared the results of Sly's physical assessments with me. He has scored very high in most areas. Swimming is a bit of an issue, and he isn't exactly comfortable with using a sidearm, but overall, he seems quite promising, Remus."

O'Connell's mouth tightened, but he made no response.

"It was also through Sly Cooper's involvement that we were able to uncover moles in our own organization, such as the Contessa and Captain Neyla during the whole Clockwerk affair."

O'Connell winced.

Drake frowned slightly for the first time since entering the room. "I won't lie to you, Remus. That was a bad situation. Dangerous artifacts stolen, multiple traitors within Interpol, loyal officers silenced, Internal Affairs poking into everything, and to top it all off, a huge blimp coming down over Paris. Dangerous business, as both of you remember. It was the biggest crisis since _that_ incident." Drake removed his glasses and gestured to a nasty-looking scar under his left eye.

Barkley and O'Connell nodded.

"And yet, in the end, we survived. The Clockwerk parts were destroyed and Arpeggio's plan for Paris was ruined. Not only that, but a disgraced officer was able to capture the famous Sly Cooper."

"I suppose Fox earned that promotion," O'Connell muttered grudgingly.

"Oh yes, she certainly did," Drake smiled again, replacing his glasses. "She and the Cooper Gang did marvelous work. In fact, if Sly hadn't managed to escape shortly after his capture, I was considering offering him a job right then and there."

"_What?_" O'Connell yelped.

Drake nodded.

The wolf closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose in disbelief. "Sir, if I may…"

"You may."

"I'm sure have your reasons, Sir, but I'm against having a criminal like Cooper at Interpol. This situation reminds me too much of Neyla for my liking, and I'm afraid it will likely end the same way."

"An understandable fear." Shaking his head, Drake clapped a hand on O'Connell's shoulder. "Well, then you'll be happy to know that you'll be able to keep an eye on him for a while."

"Sir?"

The lion looked to Barkley. "I was just coming to your office, Jim, to give you new orders for your newbie and his partner."

He withdrew a manila envelope from a large pocket and tossed it onto Barkley's desk.

"I'm assigning them to the team in Cannes for the time being."

O'Connell gaped and stammered. "C-cannes? But, sir, that's _my_ assignment!"

"Of course, Remus. They'll be working under you." Drake said with a beatific expression. "Weren't you requesting additional manpower just last week?"

"Yes, but…" O'Connell began.

"You're welcome," Drake clapped him on the shoulder again.

O'Connell stared unbelievingly at Drake for a moment. Then, without another word or a backward glance, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Barkley winced, glancing up at Drake's smiling figure. "He doesn't mean any harm, sir. O'Connell's just a bit…strong willed."

"It's quite all right," the Chief assured him. "It's rather refreshing to have subordinates that actually have the guts to disagree with you."

Barkley smiled, somewhat relieved. "Still, O'Connell and Cooper…there's gonna be trouble between them."

To Barkley's surprise, Drake began to laugh loudly.

"No doubt of that. Still, it should be a good character building experience for them both. I have a good feeling about it."

* * *

_Next Chapter: On the Riviera_

_A/N: (Try to guess who the inspiration for Chief Damon Drake was.)_


	3. Trouble on the Riviera

_**Here's the next chapter. It's just a short little intro, done in the style of the level intros from the games. The next chapter will be coming soon. It's approximately 80 percent complete.**_

_**As always, do point out any mistakes you notice, and I will endeavor to correct them. **_

_**Chapter 3:**_

_You know, it's funny… If you had told me five years ago that I'd be working as an officer of Interpol…well, let's be honest, I'd laugh at you. Me, Sly Cooper, master thief, last in a long line of master thieves. I'm as surprised as anyone._

_I don't regret it though. Getting to spend so much time with Carmelita, working together, it just feels right. I still miss the gang, but right now, I want to make this work._

_There's plenty of interesting people working at Interpol, too, apart from Carmelita. Having dealt with my share of weirdoes in the family business, I always thought that crooks had the monopoly on eccentricity, but some of these guys…_

_First there's Chief Inspector Barkley. I'd never actually talked to him before 'switching sides,' but the old badger always seemed decent enough. Apparently, he's actually responsible for Carmelita and I meeting in the first place, so I'm grateful to the guy. He can be gruff, but, between you and me, I hear he still sleeps with his teddy bear._

_Then there's the big boss man. I've only met him a couple times, but Chief Director Damon Drake is one of the strangest people I've ever met._

_Have you ever heard the term "iron fist in a velvet glove"? Well, Drake is a perfect example of that. One look from him, and even hardened criminals would shake in their boots. He knows how to deal with people._

_Drake's kept Interpol together despite a number of scandals. Unfortunately, some of his more outlandish decisions have made him a number of enemies inside Interpol. Though, in spite of all the pressure of his position, Drake never seems to lose his cool. He just has that same smile…_

_And then, of course, there's Inspector Remus O'Connell. That guy's got a bad attitude and strong dislike for yours truly. Can't imagine why. And now, me and Carmelita have been assigned to work under this guy. I'm sure he was thrilled about that. Ah well, guess we'll just have to make the best of it. I hear the Riviera is lovely this time of year._

SLY COOPER and CARMELITA FOX in:

_**Trouble on the Riviera**_


	4. Shady Business

_A/N: I said the next chapter would be up soon. Guess I wasn't lying, was I?_

Chapter 4: Shady Business

O'Connell unlocked the door and led his new underlings into a small dingy room that smelled strongly of smoke.

"All right," he growled, gesturing to the newcomers. "Inspector Fox, Constable Cooper, Meet the rest of our merry band."

A large pig in a dirty white shirt stood up from a chair by the window, casually raising a hand in greeting. He looked like he hadn't bathed in days, and a half-eaten candy bar stuck out of his pants pocket.

"That's my partner, Inspector Garfield."

The pig inclined his head, smiling broadly. "Call me Dennis." O'Connell began rummaging through a nearby desk, as Inspector Garfield jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "And these guys are Roux, Rookfield, and Moliere, detectives from the local precinct."

An otter, a crow, and a grasshopper glanced up from their card game for a moment, then turned away as their interest in the new arrivals waned.

"Four Interpol officers on one case in addition to locals, huh?" Sly said, idly stroking his chin. "Must be something big."

"Very big," grunted O'Connell. He presented Carmelita with a file. She opened it and scanned it quickly, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Megalo? What's the Mafia doing here in France?"

Sly crept behind Carmelita, surreptitiously looking over the file. It contained a data sheet, complete with a large color photograph. The photo was of a large shark in a pinstripe suit, a matching hat perched rakishly on his head. He was smiling, which revealed a very impressive set of teeth. One tooth even seemed to be made of solid gold.

Sly recognized the mobster, though he had only seen him once. Of course, that had been when Sly and his gang had robbed the man blind at the Blackjack tables in Monaco.

_Johnny Megalo. A small time mobster who finally reached the big leagues. Sly thought. A nasty piece of work. Smart enough, but no common sense and a certain weakness for the ladies._

He glanced at Carmelita, a slow smile creeping over his features.

_Guess we have that last part in common._

"What's that thug doing in Cannes? It seems a bit out of his territory," Carmelita commented, placing a hand on her hip and frowning.

"That's exactly it, Fox," O'Connell said. "It's outside of his usual stomping grounds."

"He used to be one of Don Falcone's lieutenants. Spent most of his time around Rome, I believe," Garfield mentioned to Sly, unaware that Sly already knew this.

"And Monaco," Sly couldn't help but add.

"And Monaco," Garfield agreed, nodding placidly. O'Connell cleared his throat, and the pig subsided into a sheepish silence.

"Anyway," O'Connell continued. "When Megalo was made a Don, everyone thought he'd be assigned to take over Don Octavio's Venice operation, but instead, Falcone sent him here and sent one of his other lieutenants to run Venice. Don or not, he's still Amadeus Falcone's stooge."

Carmelita pursed her lips. "So, Falcone's using Megalo to expand his sphere of influence, then?"

The wolf nodded. "Exactly. Over the past few months, the Don has bought a number of properties under assumed names. It looks like he's planning on staying quite a while." He cursed. "The gangsters control a number of Italian cities, but so far no foreign city is totally under their influence. And I'll be damned if I let them have this city."

"Luckily, two things have happened recently that should be a big help to us," Garfield announced, taking a bite from his candy bar. "The first is you two showing up."

O'Connell snorted, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "We'd honestly take anyone with a pulse," he muttered.

Sly smiled and nodded, ignoring the wolf's grumbling. "And the second?"

The pig stuffed the remainder of the candy bar in his mouth, swallowing it quickly and smearing his face with chocolate. A white-sleeved arm quickly darted up to wipe away the mess. "One of our local informants let slip that Don Megalo's going to be having an important meeting with a powerful underworld figure sometime in the next week."

"A local?"

"Nope, an out-of-towner." Dennis grunted. "Word is he flew in."

"We've got enough evidence of illegal activity to put the Don away for life," O'Connell took a sip from his coffee cup. "The trouble is in finding where he's hiding in the city. We know where he's gonna be tonight, but Chief Drake…" the wolf grimaced. "…wants us to take out both the Don and whoever he's meeting. Therefore, the first order of business is to uncover the details of the meeting. We need to know where, we need to know when, and we need to know who."

Sly smirked. "Information gathering, huh?"

"Should be right up your alley," O'Connell said mildly, taking another sip. "Dennis?"

The portly inspector made his way over towards the far wall, where a large corkboard covered in papers and pictures hung.

"This is the Pearl Lounge," Dennis pointed to one picture. "One of Don Megalo's new purchases. Now, rumor has it that the Don is meeting with a representative of his new business partner tonight, to finalize the details for the meeting."

"I want you two," O'Connell gestured at Sly and Carmelita. "To infiltrate the club together and find out any useful information you can."

"Should we enter separately so as not to attract attention?" Carmelita asked, her frown making it evident that she wasn't too thrilled by the idea of undercover work in general.

"That's not an option, I'm afraid. The Pearl Lounge is rather…exclusive," O'Connell's mouth twitched slightly. "They only admit couples."

Sly gave a roguish wink to Carmelita, receiving a roll of her eyes in response. He turned back to Inspector O'Connell.

"You're not so bad after all, sir."

O'Connell only grunted. Carmelita shook her head, a small smile passing over her lips.

* * *

The Pearl Lounge was an old club, one that had changed surprisingly little during its more than four decades of operation. Patrons entered onto the well-lit upper level, which overlooked the much darker main floor and main stage. The floor was filled with white-covered tables, most of which were devoid of customers, aside from a few couples sitting on the upper level. One side of the main level held a well-stocked, but rather deserted bar. The barman, a morose looking reindeer, glanced around the room as he cleaned a glass with a filthy dishrag. His gaze traveled from the apparently slumbering rabbit at the end of the bar to the two mobsters seated directly in front of center stage. 

Johnny Megalo managed to wrench his eyes off the singer as the other man at the table, a dog in a ratty vest, began to speak.

"Nice place you got here."

Megalo sighed. "Look, Mr. Jackman…"

"Jackson," the dog interrupted quickly. "Inkspot Jackson."

"_Whatever_," the shark replied, giving him a withering glance. "Da point is that I think we're past all this…how shall I put this…chit-chat. Your boss sent you over here so we could plan our little get-together, right?"

Jackson nodded, idly shuffling the deck of cards he held in his hand. "Yeah, but, talkin' in a joint like this…ain't that a bit…risky?"

"What you talkin' about?" Megalo laughed. He gestured around the room. "It's Monday, ain't hardly nobody in here but my people! Even your date for the evening is on my payroll." He gestured to a group of young women sitting at the next table.

"Still, dis seems a bit public. The boss heard some rumors about cops nosin' around your operation. That makes da boss a bit…nervous."

Don Megalo pounded the table. "I said don't worry about it! My boys know the faces of all the local cops." Jackson continued fiddling with his cards, and Megalo turned his attention back to the act on stage.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Inkblot. Ain't no way any cop's gonna so much as make it through the front door!"

* * *

Sly glanced over the balcony at the table where Megalo and his guest sat. "Well, we got through the front door. Now what?" 

Carmelita did not answer him immediately. She instead cursed as she adjusted the pair of bulky eyeglasses that rested on the bridge of her nose.

"What's the problem?"

"These damn things are getting in the way," she grumbled, pushing them up for what must have been the fifteenth time.

"Aren't you used to wearing glasses by now?" Sly asked mischievously. "You do have those reading glasses…"

He trailed off as Carmelita gave him a pointed look. The ferocity of her glare was somewhat lessened when the glasses once again to slip.

"That's not the same, and you know it," she muttered. "Honestly, look at these things!"

"They are a bit big," he admitted.

"There had to be an easier way to sneak a hidden camera into this place," Carmelita muttered under her breath.

"Relax, Carmelita. You're gonna draw attention to us. Besides, you look great!"

Carmelita rolled her eyes, but did not seem truly bothered by the compliment.

Sly gave a winning smile and headed for the stairs. "I'll head downstairs and see if I can hear any 'interesting' gossip."

"Okay, then. I'll stay here and cover you."

* * *

Sly slid into a stool near the end of the bar. He eyed the bartender, and then the slumbering rabbit in a nearby seat. 

"One lemonade, please."

The bartender grunted, nodded his assent and turned away. Sly took the opportunity to focus on Don Megalo and his guest.

"-so that' s how it is. Think your boss can make it?"

"No problem," Jackson grinned, flashing the 8 of clubs. "8:00 tomorrow, Hotel Durand."

"And make sure your boss has the merchandise, capishe?" Megalo growled in a menacing tone, idly picking at his gold tooth. "Otherwise, I might lose my temper. And if I lose my temper, certain other people might lose their temper, and you don't want that."

The dog raised is hands as if warding off a blow. "Easy there Mr. Megalo. You got nothin' to worry about."

"Fuhgeddaboudit," the shark said, a smile returning to his face. "It's just business, you know?"

Sly could only shake his head in wonderment.

"_It couldn't be this easy, could it?_" he muttered under his breath as the bartender returned, setting his drink down with an unceremonious clunk. He took a sip, marveling at his own luck.

_I guess we're pretty much done here, then. I should go get Carmelita and we can-_

Sly's reverie was interrupted by the click of a pistol behind his right ear, followed by a surprisingly friendly voice growling in his ear.

"Hello, dead man."

* * *

Next Chapter: Femme Fatale


	5. Le Chat Qui Sourit

_A/N: Sorry for the long delay. Real life's been beating down on me, and I only just got a new computer. As for the chapter's title, I believe it's French for The Smiling Cat (lit. The Cat who Smiles). It's been a while since I've studied that language, so my French could be a bit off.  
_

Chapter 5: Le Chat Qui Sourit

* * *

"Hi there," Sly replied, forcing his voice to remain level. The bartender glanced over, shrugged, and simply picked up another dirty glass. 

"You don't seem especially concerned for someone with a gun to their head."

"Sorry to disappoint."

The figure abruptly moved to stand in front of Sly, so that the pistol was now directly between his eyes. It was the white rabbit who had been apparently sleeping at the end of the bar, but was now very much awake. He wore a rather drab brown suit with a royal blue tie, and his bleached hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. Completing the ensemble were a pair of cowboy boots. Sly realized with a start that his assailant was no more than a teenager.

His expression was completely blank, save his eyes. They were slate gray, and twinkled merrily as he regarded Sly. Strange red markings appeared to be dyed beneath them. Overall Sly thought the boy looked like a gross parody of both a lawyer and a clown. However, he also thought it would be rude to point this out, given the gun.

Time seemed to stop as the cruel eyes bored into Sly. Several seconds passed. Then the rabbit leaned in.

"You know what?" he asked Sly in a conspiratorial whisper.

"What?" the raccoon whispered back.

"I like you," the youth replied without changing his expression. "So I've decided that means that you're my new friend."

The gun remained trained on Sly.

"Lucky me."

The rabbit lowered the gun, the smile on his face finally matching his eyes. "The name's Kidd. Nice to meet you, partner."

"Likewise."

"Hey, Kidd!" Johnny Megalo's voice boomed. "Quit scarin' the customers and get over here!"

"Hold your horses!" he shouted cheerfully back. Kidd turned back to Sly. "Well, want to say hi to Mr. Megalo?"

Sly shook his head, gesturing up towards the club's entrance. "I really shouldn't. My, er…wife might be worried about me."

Kidd's eyes twinkled once more. "Gotta mosey, huh? That's fine by me. We'll talk some other time." He thought for a moment. "Don't worry about your drink. It's on the house."

"Er…thanks."

The rabbit turned away, and began meandering towards Megalo's table. Sly stared at his retreating back for a moment, then made his way quickly to the stairs. Kidd paused for a moment to watch the raccoon's ascent. His smile deepened as he muttered under his breath.

"You stay healthy now, Sly Cooper."

* * *

"You psycho, you gotta stop doin' that! S'bad for business," Megalo fumed at the rabbit. "Falcone hired you to help me out, not scare away the few customers we do get!" 

"Who was dat guy, anyway?" Inkspot Jackson asked. "He looked kinda familiar."

Kidd shrugged. "No one, really. Just a case of mistaken identity. You see, I thought he looked like an old buddy of mine."

"You point guns at your friends?" the dog snorted.

"I point guns at everybody," replied Kidd, pointing a gun at him.

"Enough," Megalo waved it off. "Doesn't matta, anyways. We're pretty much done for tonight. Lemme just say goodnight to Marie."

"Goodnight already? Are you leaving so soon, _cher?_" a sultry voice purred. "That's not very gentlemanly." The voice belonged to a young female skunk in a black silk evening dress. She brushed her tousled hair out of her eyes and gave Megalo a reproachful look.

"Sorry, baby," the shark replied sheepishly. "Big plans, you know."

Marie pouted. "What kind of plans?"

"It's just business, you know. Pretty…boring, really…" Megalo trailed off as the skunk plopped herself into his lap and batted her eyes.

"Hey, mind your own business, lady! That kinda business ain't-" Jackson growled. At a nod from Megalo, Kidd soundlessly slid to Jackson's front and kicked him violently in the solar plexus, sending the dog crashing into another table.

"Damn…brat…" the dog croaked, his voice dull with pain.

"Thanks, Kidd," acknowledged the Don, gnashing his teeth at the poleaxed canine. "And you. Don't you ever talk to my Marie like dat again, or I'll…" he trailed off again as Marie tickled the side of his head with her tail.

"Don't get upset, _cher_. I'll understand if you can't talk about something like that." She coquettishly twirled a strand of her hair.

"Nonsense!" Megalo blustered. "Of course I can tell you about it. But you have to keep it a secret, capishe?"

Marie beamed at him. "Oh, you can trust _me_,_cher_."

"_His Marie_," Jackson muttered under his breath as he rose unsteadily to his feet. "_Hell, he told me he only met dat broad a couple days ago."_

"You say something, partner?" Kidd asked him in a genial tone.

Jackson paled.

"Not a thing."

* * *

"Sorry about that, Carmelita," Sly said sheepishly as the two stood in the alleyway next to the Pearl Lounge. "Guess I was careless." 

She frowned. "He was quick. He was up and behind you before I could even react."

"Never would have expected Megalo to have someone that young working for him," Sly said, before remembering the purpose of their visit. "But anyway, did you get any good shots?"

Carmelita smiled wanly. "I got all of them. Megalo, the contact, even you and your new friend. He looks kind of familiar, but I can't think of where I've seen him before now. How about you, did you hear any useful information?"

Sly wagged a finger at her. "Of course I did. Tomorrow. 8 PM. Hotel Durand."

"Tomorrow?" the Inspector's eyes widened. "That's going to cut things a little close."

"Bet O'Connell will _love_ that."

She grimaced. "Anyway, the important thing now is to-"

"Shhhh!"

"Pardon?"

Sly had cocked his head. "Someone's coming!"

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Carmelita's slim wrist and pulled her behind a nearby dumpster. As the two ducked down, the side door of the club swung open and a slim figure stepped out.

The skunk closed the wooden door gently behind her. Adjusting the straps of her gown, she shivered as a night breeze ruffled her hair. With a flourish, Marie reached into her purse and withdrew a lavender cell phone. Her finger danced over the keys, then paused as she waited for an answer.

"_Allo_,_chaton_," she murmured into the phone. "_C'est moi_. Looks like all that work 'as paid off."

A pause.

"Don't say that. I told you I'm good, _chaton._ I got it all."

Another pause.

"'otel Durand, 8 PM tomorrow. Johnny says that the other guy's bringing some _special_ goods. Sounds like what you're after, _n'est-ce pas_?"

The voice on the other end was speaking again, and Marie cocked her head with a contemplative expression.

"You worry too much, _chaton_. But you're right, I should give you the other details in person. After all, we do want this 'eist to go off, 'ow you say, without any problems?"

Carmelita and Sly exchanged a significant look.

"_D'accord_. I will be there soon. _Au revoir, chaton_."

Replacing the phone in her purse, Marie purposefully strode out of the alley and down the street, her heels making loud clicking noises on the pavement. Sly and Carmelita watched her walk down the block and disappear into the front door of a seedy looking discotheque. As she slipped inside, Carmelita turned to Sly.

"Well, now…" Carmelita began.

"I think our night just got a bit more interesting," Sly finished the thought. "Shall we follow this new lead up before we head back?"

Carmelita smiled. "After you."

Sly gave the front of the club a cursory glance as they approached. This neon sign over the entrance bore the legend 'Le Chat Qui Sourit' next to a design of a smiling Cheshire Cat.

"This situation could be dicey," Sly warned. "After all, these are probably professional thieves we're dealing with." His gaze traveled up the street.

"They'll naturally be more suspicious by nature, as opposed to thugs like Megalo," Carmelita agreed. "So how do we get in without attracting attention?"

There was no answer, as Sly simply continued to stare up the street..

"Sly?"

He looked up, a strange smile on his face. "How do we get in? Why don't we just ask them?"

Carmelita's gaze followed her partner's pointing finger towards a rapidly approaching group of people, well over twenty in number. Every man and womon in the group seemed to be in a party mood, and they were all following the lead of the man standing at the front. He was a tall purple iguana, wearing sunglasses despite the late hour. His bright pink tie clashed with his pure white suit, which stood out like a beacon. With his arms flung around the shoulders of two giggling young women, Dimitri Lousteau stalked towards the entrance of the discotheque and the continuation of his partying.

Sly grinned at Carmelita. "Fancy becoming part of an entourage?"

"Do I really have much of a choice?"

* * *

Inside the club, Marie made her way over to a table in the far corner. She allowed neither the pulsing music nor the gyrating dancers to distract her from her advance. She first waved to the huge albatross who was leaning against the wall and the coyboy-hatted red scorpion sitting at the end of the table. Each simply favored her with a perfunctory nod. She slid into a free seat across from the other two occupants. The first, a young female squirrel in a knit cap, appeared to be dozing. The other's green eyes watched her from behind a pair of glasses, his gaze occasionally flicking towards the door. 

He was a cat with a small build and dark gray-black fur. The hair on his head, a far darker shade of black, was tied back in a simple ponytail. He slouched down in his seat, his black longcoat hanging loosely on his otherwise bared shoulders. He eyed Marie appraisingly again.

"Glad you could join us, newbie," his voice was a light, almost playful growl. "So, you say you were able to make big man Megalo sing for us, huh?"

"_Bien sur_," the skunk replied. "As I said over the phone, _chaton_."

"And so, here you are," the cat leaned forward. "So let's hear the other details."

As Marie began to inform the cat, a commotion came from the front of the club. Dimitri's entourage had made their entrance. The cat idly watched them as he listened. When she finished, he leaned back again and made a slightly disgusted noise.

"Gray?" the albatross asked him, turning from his position watching the door,

Gray sighed, shaking his head in a resigned fashion. "Didn't I tell you, Duncan? I knew things were going too well."

The albatross grunted quizzically..

"Whenever things go well, something bothersome always seems to come up." The cat closed his eyes and yawned.

Marie pouted. "What are you talking about, _chaton_? Was there something wrong with the information?"

A placid smile crossed Gray's face. "Nothing wrong at all with the information. That's not the problem."

"Well then," Marie inquired, slightly impatient. "What _is_ the problem?"

"Don't get excited now," Gray opened one eye languidly. "But you were followed, newbie."

Duncan's next grunt had a tinge of disbelief and alarm to it.

"Not your fault, big guy," assured the cat, shrugging. "You were looking out for uniformed officers or people acting suspiciously. These two came in with Dimitri's crowd. They're pretty cautious, too. They're not getting too close or drawing undue attention to themselves. The only reason _I_noticed them is because, well…" He opened his other eye. "Honestly, I recognized their faces."

Marie's face was tight. "So, 'oo are they?"

The large scorpion at the end of the table gave a dry chuckle. "That don't matter, darlin'. We just gotta beat 'em down or blow 'em up." He took a drag on a thick cigar and began to stand. "That's all there is to it."

The cat held up his hand to stop him. "No, Vernon. Can't say I'd recommend that," Gray said matter-of-factly. "Starting a brawl in here is a bad idea, especially right before a job." He frowned before continuing. "Besides, Interpol doesn't take kindly to that sort of thing as a general rule."

"Interpol?" the squirrel seated next to Gray asked, stirring for the first time. Her eyes were bright with interest.

"But if they trailed the little missy…" protested Vernon.

"If they came here following her, she probably wasn't their main objective," Duncan graveled, his words stunning the older man into silence.

Gray snapped his fingers. "Bingo. Looks like Interpol's taken more of an interest in Johnny Megalo's business than I thought." He shrugged again. "It can't be helped. We'll be proceeding as scheduled, Interpol or no Interpol."

Vernon scowled and clacked his claws. "Bah! Nicole, what do you think of this?"

The squirrel furrowed her brow in thought.

"Gray's probably right, Professor," she chirped. "Sure, the job might be a bit tougher with a bunch of cops around, but it could also work to our advantage. It's not like we have much of a choice."

Gray rose to his feet and looked around at his cohorts, a lazy smile on his face. Resting his gloved right hand on Nicoles shoulder, he winked broadly. "Exactly. Every bad situation can be turned around. The basic plan will remain unchanged."

This time, the scorpion was the one to grunt.

"Some details will have to be changed of course," conceded the cat, raising his hands as if to defend himself. "But that can wait until we're back at the safehouse, right?"

"This place is getting a bit…crowded," Duncan rumbled. "I'd say heading back is the best idea."

Nicole nodded vigorously. "Yeah, seriously. I'm exhausted."

"Perhaps if you hadn't spent the past three hours on the dance floor," suggested Gray gently.

"Bah."

"Leave? Now?" Marie protested. "What about the Interpol agents?"

The cat stroked his chin. "It can't be helped. We'll slip out the back and all take different routes back, so we aren't tailed."

The group nodded silently, Marie last of all.

"Oh, and speaking of the safehouse...Vernon?"

"Yeah?" he grumped.

Gray yawned again, tossing back his long hair. "Get your gear out when we get back. Looks like we're gonna need your talents on this job after all."

The scorpion's mandibles twisted into what seemed a malevolent smile. "Now, son,_ that_ is what I like to hear."

Nicole stood and stretched, fluffing out her large tail. "Y'know Gray, we should probably contact Selene once we get back. After all, she's got more experience dealing with Interpol."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Can't hurt to consult with her before tomorrow night."

_After all,_ he thought. _We'll need every advantage we can get if we'll be facing both Sly Cooper and Carmelita Fox tomorrow. This should be fun._

* * *

_Next chapter: Rap Sheets  
_


	6. To Know Thine Enemy

Chapter 6: To Know Thine Enemy

The next morning, Sly sat at the table directly across from his foul-tempered superior. As Sly had expected, Inspector O'Connell wasn't too pleased when he and Carmelita returned from their surveillance work. After about twenty minutes of shouting and angry gestures (most of which were directed at Sly), the wolf finally seemed to wind himself down enough for the two to make their report.

Sly glanced over by the window at Inspector Garfield, slouched in a rickety chair. Then his gaze flicked over to Carmelita. The fox looked rather haggard, as though she hadn't slept well, and her hair was rather unkempt. Noticing Sly's furtive look, she gave a wan smile.

_Even exhausted, she still looks fantastic. _He thought.

"We might as well get right to business," O'Connell stated matter-of-factly. "Despite some minor…complications, last night's reconnaissance work can be considered a success."

"Glad to hear it, sir," said Sly.

"Shut up, Cooper. Thanks to your work, we now know where and when the big meeting is taking place. Not only that, but after identifying the man you saw meeting with Megalo yesterday, we also now know who he's meeting with today."

"We're all ears," Carmelita informed him, crossing her arms.

"You're gonna love this one, Fox," O'Connell said. "After all, he's someone you've had experience arresting twice in the past. Maybe tonight you can make it a Hat Trick."

"Who do you-" she began to ask. Her brow furrowed for a moment. "You don't mean?"

"Fraid so, hon," Inspector Garfield told her. "That skinny mutt you saw Megalo clock was Inkspot Jackson, a main lieutenant of Anthony Denulla, better known as-"

"Muggshot," Carmelita finished. A very sour expression had settled on her face.

"Right you are, Fox," confirmed O'Connell, taking a sip of coffee from a stained mug in front of him. "I bet you and Cooper just can't wait to see him, huh?" He shot Sly a nasty look hidden behind an almost pleasant smile.

"You bet," said Carmelita in an eager tone. "I'll enjoy making that pathetic thug cry for mother again."

"Heh, poor guy," Sly muttered under his breath, cringing slightly. Carmelita was beautiful when she was angry, but he was glad that Carmelita's ire was directed at a criminal other than him this time.

Inspector O'Connell nodded approvingly. "Glad to hear it. "

Sly cleared his throat, gaining the attention of both Inspectors. "Forgetting Muggshot for the moment, what about my er…new friend?"

"That's right, I was about to ask about him, too," Carmelita agreed. "He looked familiar to me, but I just couldn't put my finger on it."

O'Connell's smile vanished as he came right to the point. "You've probably seen his wanted poster. You just didn't recognize him because he usually wears a mask. He's a mercenary, Fox, and quite a good one, too. Ever hear of the Legend Brothers?"

Carmelita snorted. "Are you telling me that guy's one of the Legend Brothers? Those two have been around for over fifteen years, and that kid didn't look a day of fifteen himself."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Fox. That 'kid' is actually 31 years old."

"You're joking," Sly said without thinking.

O'Connell shook his head. "'Fraid not. Judging by the pictures, that was most definitely James Kidd of the Legend Brothers. And even if we account for those people you observed at the nightclub, he's still going to be the most dangerous person we have to deal with tonight." He laced his fingers together. "That's why you're all going to leave him to me."

"Speaking of which, did you by chance find any information on those people we saw Marie meeting with?"

"Don't talk stupid, Cooper," the wolf grunted, taking another sip of coffee. He nodded to Garfield, who then produced a handful of folders and threw them on the table. "Apparently, that little group is starting to make a name for themselves in the underworld."

"And what name would that be?" Sly asked wryly.

O'Connell yawned before answering. "They call themselves the Shades. They used to be fairly small-time thieves, but lately they've started pulling bigger and bigger jobs, and have managed to attract our attention."

"Rumor has it they've gone mercenary, stealing rare items for whoever can pay them," added Garfield, taking a swig from his own mug.

"So any idea who they're working for, or what they're after?"

"Not a goddamn clue," O'Connell grunted, before Carmelita interrupted.

"But based on what we heard, they're after something Muggshot has, and they're using Megalo to get close to him." She walked over from where she leaned against the wall to stand next to Sly. The raccoon flashed her another quick smile as O'Connell frowned.

"Under normal circumstances we'd sit tight and gather more information, but we don't have that luxury this time. The Shades, Muggshot, Megalo…they're all making their move tonight and we have to do the same."

The sound of frantic honking rose from the street outside.

"Furthermore," he continued. "We should assume that the boss of the Shades already know that we know."

"What?" Carmelita protested. "But we-"

O'Connell raised a hand to silence her. "I'm sure you were _very_ cautious," he gave a sidelong glance at Sly as he spoke. "But you have to understand, Gray is a dangerous man to underestimate. For one thing, he's one of the only criminals to ever escape me."

Sly couldn't help but smirk at the bitter tone of the inspector's words. Unconsciously, he found himself wondering how he would fare against Gray. "Sounds like an interesting guy."

Carmelita shook her head despairingly as O'Connell glowered at Sly. "Anyway, what's the plan?"

Abandoning his impromptu staring match with the raccoon, the wolf opened one of the folders on the table. "I'll get the that shortly; there's something else to take care of first." He placed the open folder back on the table. "As Sun Tzu once said, 'Know thine enemy.'"

The open file pictured a young female skunk.

"Cute little thing, ain't she?" Garfield commented. O'Connell glared again.

_One of these days, his face is gonna freeze like that._ Thought Sly.

The inspector hurriedly composed himself. "Anyway, first is the newest member of the Shades: Marie Leblanc, age 28. To be honest, we actually don't know much about her background. She's been wanted for various acts of con-artistry and theft over the past two years, but she's mainly limited her movements to England and France. Leblanc's a bit of an adrenaline junkie, so she's reckless. It's almost gotten her caught a couple times in the past. She apparently joined the Shades earlier this year when she tried to steal an item the gang was after."

"What's her area of expertise?" Sly asked.

"She seems to be acting as a sort of Jack of all trades for the group, but her information-gathering abilities seem to be one of her main strengths."

"Given what we saw last night, she's probably going to have a major part to play tonight," Carmelita hypothesized.

"More than likely," O'Connell opened up another file, this one revealing a beady-eyed scorpion. "Next is Professor Vernon Frost, age 46, sometimes known as Burnin' Vernon. He's a former professor who taught chemistry and engineering at several universities in Europe and the United States. Right now, he owns a construction firm in America. Apparently, he was a teacher of one of the core members of the gang and was recruited after his retirement. His job is making things go boom, and he enjoys his job more than would be normally considered healthy."

"I thought he'd go straight after he got married," said Garfield. "Especially with a scary wife like that."

"Oh sure, he's technically retired from crime, but apparently still helps the gang out on tough jobs from time to time."

"So he's a mad bomber and a family man," Sly mused. "Huh."

A third file was opened. A severe beaked face peered up at the gathered Interpol agents.

"Duncan Payne, age 26. One of the Shades' three founding members. He grew up with the other two, even attending the same university. Duncan's quiet, but he gets done whatever Gray needs done. He's the group's muscle, but unlike someone like…oh, say, Muggshot, Duncan actually has a working brain."

Inspector Garfield decided at that point to stand, stretch, and waddle over to the sink to pour himself another cup of coffee. Sly snickered internally as Inspector O'Connell grimaced at the pig again.

"Anyway, speaking of brains…" The next file was unceremoniously opened. "Nicole Harker, age 23. She helped start the Shades along with her childhood friends Gray and Duncan. She's the oldest of 7 siblings and a bit of an eccentric. She's in charge of most of the gang's technical work, mainly weapon and gadget design."

"Well, I suppose every gang of thieves needs a mad scientist or two," offered Sly, thinking of Bentley and Penelope.

Garfield plopped back into his chair. "Hell, in my opinion s'only a matter of time before that squirrelly little lady builds some kinda giant robot and levels a city block."

"Moving right along," O'Connell continued, ignoring the comments. "Next is the boss, Gray, age 23."

"Just Gray? No last name?" Sly asked.

"None on record. The only relevant information we know is that he grew up with Harker and Payne, and was the main founder of the Shades."

Sly looked at the cat's picture. Gray almost appeared to be sleeping; his eyes were closed and his glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose. "So how dangerous is this guy, really?"

"Dangerous enough. Gray's a good thief, but he's also surprisingly good in a fight. He'll claw you to pieces with those gloves of his if you let your guard down."

"Or kick you in the face," Garfield piped up helpfully, earning a growl from O'Connell. "He likes doing that."

"Anyway, the other thing you need to know about Gray is that he's _very_ observant, and _very _good at adapting to unexpected things. He probably noticed you two at the club earlier tonight and has already adjusted his strategy accordingly."

"Doesn't matter how adaptable he is," Carmelita stated, tossing her hair back. "He's a criminal like any other, and we're going to take him down. It's as simple as that."

"That's my girl," said Sly.

O'Connell took another sip of his own coffee, grimacing as he realized that the beverage had gone cold. "Yes, I suppose we should deal with the Shades if we get the chance, but don't forget that our main objective here is dealing with organized crime in the city. That means that Megalo and Muggshot are the top priority, along with that trigger-happy bastard Kidd. Gray and his group are a distant second for now. Understand?"

Everyone nodded silently.

He smiled, the first genuine smile that Sly had ever seen from the wolf. "Good. Now everyone gather round while I run us through tonight's operation…"

Next Chapter: The Sting


	7. The Best Laid Plans

_Sorry for any delays. Final exams were brutal this semester._

Chapter 7: The Best Laid Plans

* * *

Remus O'Connell looked across the table at his fellow Interpol agents. "So, about an hour left before things go down. Any questions?"

"Not really," Sly shrugged. "It seems pretty cut-and-dried."

O'Connell gave a slow nod. "Even so, I'll go over it one more time. We move in as soon as we confirm that the meeting's underway. Fox, you and Garfield will take the bulk of the local cops and engage Don Megalo's forces. If you get the chance to take down Muggshot or Megalo, take it."

Carmelita nodded. Garfield just gave a snort of acknowledgement.

"Cooper, you'll be supporting the other two. However, if Gray or any of his gang show up, you are to pursue them immediately. Our main targets are the mobsters, but it doesn't look good if some scrawny sneak-thief manages to pull off a heist right under our noses."

"Gotcha," Sly replied, smirking. "You sure you'll be all right without me?"

The wolf gave a tight-lipped smile. "Between me, Fox, Garfield, and a hundred-odd police officers, I think we'll manage," he said dryly.

Sly changed the subject. "And you, sir? You're after Megalo's bodyguard, right?"

"That's right. I'll be keeping Kidd busy on my own," O'Connell patted his sidearm absently. "Less potential casualties that way."

"Kidd's crazy, a loose cannon," Inspector Garfield offered. "He's as likely to shoot his employer as his enemies."

"Doesn't sound like very good business," Sly observed.

The pig only shrugged.

"Anyway," O'Connell said, retaking control of the conversation. "Just leave Kidd to me and attend to your own duties, and tonight should go down without any problems."

* * *

Gray looked up the heavens as the rain continued to pour down, a curious half smile on his face.

"Excellent weather for the heist," he said mildly to his companion, who had taken refuge beneath an ornate parasol.

"If you say so," Marie Leblanc replied, sounding annoyed.

Gray wiped his glasses and looked at Marie. "You don't sound convinced, newbie."

"That's because I am not convinced, Chaton," came the response. "It is, if you will pardon the expression: 'raining cats and dogs." As far as I am concerned, this rain will be nothing but an 'inderance to our movements."

"Meh," Gray said dismissively. "The rain could be a problem if for us if we're not careful, but you're overlooking the advantages. After, one of the most vital skills for a thief is the art of not being seen."

Marie's only response was to raise a well-groomed eyebrow, so Gray continued, gesturing at the street below.

"Now think about it. In this weather, most people will keep their eyes down to keep out the rainwater. That means they're much less likely to spot us up here, which means we'll have a much better chance of getting to the hotel unscathed."

"I suppose that is true."

"Plus, the rain should help us lose any pursuit if the getaway doesn't go quite according to plan."

Marie nodded. "All right, _chaton_, you 'ave made your point. Still, I wouldn't have expected a cat like you to actually enjoy ze rain."

Gray smiled. He hated that joke. "Cats hating water is a common misconception, newbie. You know, like skunks spraying anyone who surprises them."

The skunk wrinkled her nose at that. "I do not spray anyone at all, chaton. It is…exceptionally unladylike."

Gray laughed. "Fair enough. Anyway, the way I figure it, the weather's just one of those things that can't be helped, so why waste time worrying about it?"

At that moment, something inside of Gray's longcoat let out a soft chirping noise. Without changing his expression, he began rummaging through the garment's many pockets. Gray finally found what he was looking for in the fourth pocket, pulling out a small communicator and clicking it on.

"Talk to me," Gray prompted the device.

"_Hey, party crashers,"_ Nicole's voice chirped back. _"Ready to get started?"_

"Ready when you are, love," Gray replied smoothly, glancing over at Marie. "Just say the word."

"_We're all set on this end, Gray, but you're gonna have to be careful. There's a lot of cops positioned near the hotel."_

Gray shrugged. "We'll just be counting on you to guide us around them."

"_Will do,"_ Nicole said dutifully. _"Oh, and by the way, I spotted another acquaintance of ours with the cops."_

Gray's brow furrowed in thought for a brief moment. "Bloody hell, not O'Connell again."

"_Got it in one. Looks like he's in charge of all of them. D'you think he's still sore about the time you kicked him in the face?"_

"No, no," Gray said breezily. "I'm sure he's forgotten all about it. Live and let live and all that."

"_You don't really believe that, do you Gray?"_

"Not a bit, love, not a bit."

In fact, Gray suspected that O'Connell would try to even the score if they met again.

Just then, another troubling thought struck Ms. Leblanc. "What about the explosives?" she asked. "Will they be all right in all this rain?"

Gray cocked his head and addressed the intercom. "You heard the lady, Vernon. How're we doing on that score?"

There was a brief burst of static as the scorpion's voice joined the channel.

"_There ain't no need to fret,"_ he growled. _"Old Vernon's an expert in all things that go boom. Trust me on this, those bombs are as watertight as the Titanic."_

Gray wrinkled his nose in consternation. "Come again?"

" _The Titanic! You know…big boat."_

The ensuing silence seemed interminable, broken only when Gray softly cleared his throat.

"Vernon…the Titanic sank."

"_What? Yer shittin' me."_

"I'm afraid not. Hit an iceberg in 1912, cracked in half and sank. 1500 people _died_, Vernon; this is common knowledge."

"_They even made a few films about it, Professor,"_ piped up Nicole. _"Oscar-winning films."_

Gray's voice took on a light and playful tone as he baited the scorpion. "So you'll forgive me, Vernon, if I don't find your choice of words to be entirely confidence-inspiring."

"_Aw, shaddap!"_ graveled Vernon stubbornly. _"I'll stand what I said, smartass!"_

"Oh?"

"_Yeah, so long as we don 't run into no icebergs tonight, there ain't gonna be no problems with the ordinance." Vernon raised his voice as he vented. "That good enough for ya, or do I have to tear off yer arms?_

The cat blinked placidly at the threat. He adjusted his glasses before replying. "I'd really prefer that you didn't, Vernon."

Nicole gamely attempted to make peace between the two. _"Please don't tear off Gray's arms, Professor. He needs them for thieving, and…other stuff."_

"_Well then the boy shouldn't be sassin' his elders and betters!"_

"Heh," was all Gray said.

"_Why you-" _sputtered Vernon.

"_But then again…" _Nicole mused. _"If your arms get ripped off I' could build you new ones! Big shiny new ones made of metal."_

Gray adjusted his glasses as he considered Nicole's offer. "That's very sweet of you love, but honestly, I'd like to keep both of my arms…if it's all the same to Vernon, of course."

"_Bah," _was the arachnid's only response.

"Vous êtes fou, non?" muttered Marie under her breath.

"You don't know the half of it, Newbie," Gray laughed.

* * *

Hotel Durand looked like something out of a Hollywood movie. It was both grandiose and extravagant, two characteristics that a man like Muggshot could certainly appreciate, if not spell. He preferred to think of the place as 'big and flashy'. Not quite as flashy as the old Boneyard Casino back in Mesa, but hey, not everyone ran as classy a joint as Muggshot, the gangster thought to himself as he stumped heavily through the hotel's entrance lobby with a pair of lieutenants in tow.

"Well, if it ain't Two-Gun Tony in the flesh!" Johnny Megalo was all smiles as he strode forward to greet his guest. "How long's it been?"

"Damned if I know," Muggshot replied. "Never been much good wit' numbers."

The shark guffawed at that. "Dat makes two of us."

As the two spoke, Kidd slid up next to his employer. Muggshot eyed the rabbit dismissively. The scrawny brat sure didn't look like much.

"Anyways, Johnny, one of my boys tells me that your lagomorphic bodyguard here," Muggshot jerked a thumb in Kidd's direction. "Gave him a kick right in the solar plex-e-is. What kinda operation you runnin' here, anyway?"

Megalo's eyes glinted. "You understand how it is, Tony? He disrespected a very good friend o'mine. Somethin' hadda be done. Plus, Kidd here, he's ah…excitable."

Muggshot glowered, then laughed. "Oh yeah, I gotcha. You gotta do what you gotta do, Johnny."

Inkspot Jackson, standing behind his boss, glared impotently at Kidd, who just smirked back.

"All right, shall we get down ta business?" Megalo asked, making a sweeping gesture to indicate that Muggshot should follow him into the hotel's main concourse.

Muggshot glanced around at the room's high ceiling, the décor reminiscent of an old-fashioned movie theater. He gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Not bad."

"It is, ain't it?" said Megalo in an almost reverent tone. "Most of da other hotels in the area look like every other friggin' hotel in Europe, but dis one caught my eye. Because, really, what do people think of when they think of Cannes?"

Muggshot screwed up his face in thought. "Ehhhh…da movies?" he ventured.

"Damn right." The shark led Muggshot to a well-lit table near the center of the hall. "Dat's actually part of why I asked Don Falcone to send me to dis town. You ever hear of da Cannes Film Festival?" Despite receiving nothing but a blank stare from Muggshot, he blithely continued. "Dis town's one of the biggest in the entire film industry next ta Hollywood, and I wanna piece of the action, ya follow?"

Muggshot plopped himself into a small chair, which creaked dangerously under his weight. "Yeah, dat's great and all, Johnny, but t'be honest, I didn't come here for lessons in cinematographery and architecture. I came here for business." The bulldog snapped his fingers, and one of his underlings placed a small metal briefcase on the table. "So whaddaya say we cut out da rigamarole, huh?"

Johnny Megalo's predatory grin was so wide it seemed to take up nearly all of his face. "Same as ever, eh Tony? But you're right. We should be gettin' down ta business. So let's start things off with a little toast to our health, eh?"

Without waiting for Muggshot's reply, Megalo waved over a feline waiter with a ponytail, who supplied them with thin flutes of champagne. The gangsters raised their glasses and drank deeply without any hesitation. Almost immediately Muggshot began coughing violently, sending a fine mist of champagne spraying across both the table and Johnny Megalo. The waiter stood transfixed, a half-apprehensive, half-amused expression on his face. Kidd was not so delicate. The rabbit openly guffawed.

"Yeccch!" groused Muggshot. "I've never been good with cham-pag-nee. Damn bubbles always go up my nose. Eh, sorry 'bout dat, Johnny."

Johnny Megalo looked decidedly damp and decidedly unhappy. "No problem," he lied unconvincingly.

The waiter, his duty complete, turned to leave. He only managed to walk a few steps before Megalo stopped him with a curt. "Hey, you!"

The waiter stopped and spun abruptly, his long ponytail of hair whipping behind him. "Is there a…problem, boss?"

The shark jabbed a thick finger at him. "Yeah, _you_." He glared at him through narrowed eyes. "I don't recognize you."

The waiter tensed, his glasses glinting. "Well, uh, I'm new."

The shark tapped his chin thoughtfully for a few moments. "Dat makes sense. One of da new hires, eh?"

"That's right, Mr. Megalo," the cat replied. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah," said Megalo. He jabbed a finger at the cat's head. "That hair's unprofessional. Makes you look like some kinda greasy hippie!"

The waiter adjusted his glasses curiously, but otherwise seemed too dumbfounded to respond. Megalo pressed on.

"Make sure you cut dat shit off before you come into work tomorrow, or don't come in at all, got it, Matt?"

"_My name's not Matt,"_ The waiter muttered, before replying in a louder voice. "Whatever you say, Mr. Megalo."

Megalo sat back in his chair, his composure completely restored after his impromptu champagne shower. He waved the waiter off imperiously before turning back to Muggshot. "Now, to business."

Muggshot slid the metal case towards the shark. "Let's get this trade out of da way before we move on to the rest."

"Fine by me," Megalo said, eyeing the case hungrily. At his signal, a mobster brought over a pair of large briefcases and put them on the table. He then unlocked the metal case and opened it. His eager expression transformed abruptly into one of confusion. "Uhh, Tony?"

Muggshot, intent on the briefcases before him, paid Megalo no mind. He opened both, nodding approvingly at the large sum of cash contained within. "Looks good to me. Pleasure doin' business with ya, Johnny."

Don Megalo's confused expression slowly shifted towards anger. "_Tony,_" he repeated, his tone icy.

"Whassamatta?" grunted the bulldog, wrenching his eyes off the cash.

"Just what the hell…is _this?_"

Muggshot eyed the item in question. It was a long, ceremonial-looking dagger, with a creepy winged skull carved into the pommel. Muggshot thought it looked kind of cheesy piece of junk, but apparently it was also a pretty rare and valuable piece of junk. What did that one freak call it? Cormag's Claw or something like that? Muggshot didn't really care about it, but why the hell was Megalo getting so mad? It was exactly what he asked for.

Muggshot opened his mouth and said as much, which if anything made the shark madder.

"You're saying I asked for this?" he waved the blade for emphasis. "No, you must be mistaken. What I was under the impression I was buying tonight was a rare original print of the film Casablanca!"

"Dat's not what your message said-" Muggshot protested, before Megalo cut him off.

"I think I know what I wrote, Tony!" he snapped. "Hey, I admit that my handwriting may not be da neatest around, but I don't see how you could mistake the words 'original print of Casablanca' with 'chintzy piece of Ren-nay-sance fair crap'!"

"So whatt're you sayin'?" growled Muggshot, his expression darkening. "Are ya tryin' to impugn my integrity?"

"Damn right I am!" Megalo slammed the dagger into the table for emphasis, leaving it quivering in the wood. " The hell do I need a knife for, anyway? I gotta whole mouth fulla knives!"

"You want I should knock a few of 'em out, huh?"

"You an' what army, chucklehead?"

The long-haired waiter watched the huge gangsters bellow insults at each other from the other side of the room, a slightly bemused expression on his face. Reaching into a pocket, he drew out a small intercom and depressed a button.

"Well, all," he purred. "It doesn't look like we could possibly get a better opportunity than this. Vernon, you there?" Reaching into his apron pocket, he pulled out a pair of black gloves and began methodically slipping them on.

"_I'm here,_" the voice on the other end rasped. "_Just say the word._"

"I ain't gonna let you cheat me outta what's mine, Johnny!" barked Muggshot, a touch of foam appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"That's my line!" the shark shrieked, hurling himself jawfirst across the table at the burly canine, to his bodyguard's further amusement.

Gray cracked his neck from side to side and began slowly walking towards the brawling gangsters. He raised the intercom to his mouth.

"Light this place up, Vernon."

* * *


	8. Johnny Megalo's Very Bad Night

Chapter 8: Johnny Megalo's Very Bad Night

* * *

With a loud rumble, the front of Hotel Durand exploded outward with a cloud of dust and smoke. Doors were knocked off their hinges, glass was scattered, and a chorus of wailing car alarms cut through the rainy night.

There were shouts of alarm from many of the hidden police officers. Urged on by a loud swearing sergeant, the officers swarmed towards the smoking hotel.

"Damn!" cursed Remus O'Connell, watching from his own hiding place. "The hell do those idiots think they're doing!"

"Do we go?" Carmelita asked.

"There's no helping it," O'Connell punctuated the sentence with a sigh and a stream of curses. "Garfield! Fox! Cooper!"

"Just say the word," Sly said. "And we're on our way."

The wolf gave a grunt of mild approval. "We're going, while we still have the element of surprise." He leapt from behind the car, drawing his sidearm. "Everyone remember your job; things might get a little rough in there."

The other three Interpol officers nodded and moved to follow him.

* * *

Nearly everyone in the room started at the sound of the explosion. Megalo and Muggshot froze in mid-punch, glancing with mute incomprehension towards the main lobby. The other gangsters in the room did the same, expressions of confusion and apprehension on their faces.

Only Gray and Kidd seemed unperturbed by the blast. The rabbit glanced sideways at Gray and clapped his hands together. "Well, that sounded exciting, so I'm just gonna mosey on over there and check it out, boss."

"Yeah," Megalo said dully, without thinking. "You, uh, go do dat."

Whistling cheerfully, the mercenary practically skipped across the room and into the lobby, disappearing quickly from view. Megalo began to circle the table with agitation. Less than a minute later, a large ram stumbled into the room, his wool smoking. It was Mario, one of Megalo's more talented enforcers.

"B-boss…"

With a bound, the shark crossed the room and snatched Mario up by his collar, his earlier ennui replaced by paranoia and panic.

"Da hell is going on out dere, Mario?" Megalo yelled, shaking the unfortunate man like a terrier shaking a rat.

"It's t-t-the c-c-cops, boss," stuttered the ram, speaking as best he could through his boss's violent interrogation. "B-blew the doors off and j-just rushed in!"

Megalo's face paled.

"Cops?" the shark muttered, unbelieving. "How would they know-?"

"COPS!?" bellowed Muggshot, far more forcefully. "Now we got cops, too? Johnny, you bastard, YOU SET ME UP!"

"I SET _YOU_ UP?" Megalo shrieked, his voice shrill with spleen. "They probably came for you! This is your fault, meathead!"

"Say dat again, fishbreath," Muggshot growled menacingly. He cracked his knuckles.

"MEATHEAD!" the shark roared, eyes defiant.

Muggshot, frothing, hurled himself at Megalo again. He bellowed something unintelligible that seemed to contain the words "chum-sniffing," "whale-loving," and "shark fin soup." The force of his attack propelled both of them into a nearby table, knocking both the dagger and the briefcase full of money to the floor directly in front of Gray.

Moved punctuation inside of quotation marks.

"Well, this makes things easier," the cat murmured, squatting down to pick up the items. "Many thanks, gentlemen."

With a deft movement, Gray snatched up the briefcase of cash. He next reached for the dagger, but as his gloved hand closed around the hilt, a cold shudder ran up his arm. As he pulled it free, there was a bright flash of violet light and a sound like a crack of thunder.

Then the lights went out.

The room erupted immediately with surprised shouts and bellows from the assembled criminals.

Gray knelt in the darkness, staring at the dagger in his hand and saying the only thing that came to mind.

"Oh bugger."

* * *

"Ah, that's more like it; things were going a bit too well," muttered Duncan Payne to himself, as the lights flickered and went out. Ignoring the lack of illumination, he lashed out with his left wing, pasting yet another mafia thug in the jaw. The crook crumpled at the albatross's feet, joining sixteen of his companions. He pounded his boxing gloves together and carefully stepped over the groaning gangsters to join the rest of the team.

According to Gray, the main job tonight would only need himself, old man Vernon, and Marie the newbie. This left the other three members of the gang with nothing to do but as Gray put it "get a little bonus compensation."

Everything had gone just fine. With the big deal going down tonight, most security had been shifted to the Hotel Durand, leaving Megalo's other properties in the area invitingly unguarded. Duncan's job was to lead a strike team into one of the gangster's main safehouses in the city, an old abandoned theater, and, once inside, steal everything not nailed down. Simple plan, in theory, but Duncan often distrusted simple-seeming plans.

The albatross stuck his head into the next room. "Everything all right, ladies?"

"No worries here, Big D!" Nicole called cheerfully as she slammed a huge two-handed wrench into the ponderous gut of one of Megalo's thugs. "We're doing fine, right, Selene?"

The room's other female occupant faced off against a pair of wiry pigeon mobsters, twirling two leather batons deftly in her fingers. With a single, graceful step she closed the distance between her and the first thug. Her first strike struck the back of the man's knees, knocking him off-balance. The second blow caught the gangster in the throat, the momentum sending the already unbalanced man to the ground with incredible force.

The second guard, dumbfounded by the speed and ferocity of the women's assault, raised his own weapon, a wicked-looking switchblade, and lurched to attack. Selene simply pivoted, cracking one baton against the thug's hand, the other's tip mercilessly driving into his throat. The switchblade dropped to the floor, followed two seconds later by its gurgling owner.

"No problems here," Selene said mildly, adjusting the large scarf she wore around her head.

"Good. I think that takes care of everyone," grunted Duncan, stepping into the room. "Now comes the fun part."

"Hauling out the loot!" Nicole crowed, clapping her gloved hands together.

Duncan gave the squirrel an amused glance. "You would like it," he snorted. "You don't have to do any of the heavy lifting."

Nicole shoved the bird playfully. "Hey, my job is building stuff and looking cute; your job is doing the heavy lifting and punching people in the face."

"And he's quite good at it," said Selene, one hand resting on her shapely hip. "Speaking of punching, how'd the practice go?"

The albatross shrugged, tugging off his boxing gloves absently. "Not too bad, really. It was a good warm-up for my left, but they seem to have run out of guys before I was ready to start with my right."

"They're not very good, are they?" Selene agreed. "Hardly worth me coming along."

"Yeah, well I appreciate you showing up anyway," Duncan told her warmly. "We weren't expecting to meet up with you for another couple of days."

She sniffed. "My business finished up a bit early, so I figured I might as well be useful."

"Checking up on our employer, huh?" Nicole cut in, cleaning blood off her wrench. "Find anything good?"

"Nothing concrete, really. I've found rumors about him collecting occult artifacts since the end of World War II, but other than that, not much."

"World War II?" Nicole whistled. "How old is this guy, anyway?"

"Well over a century, I'd say," she answered. "I might have been able to find more about his background with a little extra time, but it'd probably be too dangerous without backup."

"So still no idea why he decided to hire us," stated Duncan flatly. "I know we're good and all, but to be honest, we're still a bit inexperienced…"

He brooded for a few moments before the lights came back up. Duncan slapped his forehead as a thought struck him. He turned back to Nicole.

"Oh, crap, I forgot! Did that little toy of yours see what happened back at the hotel? Something wrong with the bombs?"

The squirrel pursed her lips, reaching into her satchel and withdrawing a bulky metal visor. She placed it on her head and began fiddling with it.

"Nope. Can't see a thing. Looks like whatever happened managed to knock out my drone, too," she said, giving a half-hearted shrug.

"Well, can't you reconnect to it?"

She replaced the visor. "I can't reset the drone from here. I'd have to do it manually."

Duncan's scowl prompted her to continue meekly. "It's a work in progress."

Selene coughed politely. "I have a thought. Why don't we just ask Gray or one of the others what happened?"

Both stared at Selene for a moment.

"That could work," admitted Nicole.

Duncan reached for his communicator, berating himself for not thinking of doing so earlier. He switched it on. "Hey, boss, you there? You okay?"

There was a slight pause before a slightly shaky voice answered. _"Fine. Fine. Never better."_

"You sound kind of shook up. What the hell happened over there?"

"_I'm not really sure," _admitted Gray _"It'd probably be best if I try to explain after the rendezvous."_

"All right," the albatross replied. "You get what we came for?"

"_That's an affirmative, though I've hit a bit of a snag."_

"What sort of snag?"

"_Nothing, really. I just think that Megalo and Muggshot have noticed me."_

Duncan cursed. "Damn. You sure?"

* * *

"_Damn. You sure?"_

Gray peeked around the corner, than ducked back as Johnny Megalo fired another volley of hot lead in his direction.

"Pretty sure."

"_Gray?"_ the communicator asked, this time with Nicole's voice.

"Nothing to worry about, love," Gray assured her. "I've got everything under control."

He switched off the communicator and took stock of his situation. After the lights had come back up, Gray had been swiftly noticed by the two gangsters. As expected, they objected to his attempting to leave the scene with their belongings. Their objection took the form of a hail of bullets and loud imaginative threats. Gray abandoned the cash, and had retreated through a side door into the hotel's kitchen.

Hotel Durand's kitchen was almost absurdly spacious, so there was plenty of room for Gray to hide and dodge. Unfortunately, aside from the way he came in, the only other door to the room was secured with a heavy padlock and chain. Now, a thief of Gray's caliber could conceivably pick the lock, but picking the lock while under constant fire was another story.

Gray had caught a lucky break, though. After cornering him in the hotel's kitchen, Megalo had asked Muggshot to help fight off the cops while Megalo himself "took care of da bum." One huge angry mobster would be much easier to handle than two, even if he was armed with an impressively large tommy-gun.

More vexing to Gray was the absence of his backup.

"Just where is that newbie, anyway?" he mused aloud.

"I really don't appreciate dis!" Megalo called angrily, unloading a few rounds into the ceiling for emphasis. "You try to rob me an' my guests just after da cops just happen to knock down my door. Now, call me crazy, but don't you think dat's just a little bit suspicious?"

"Calling it a coincidence would…strain credulity, wouldn't it?" answered Gray.

"Shaddap," Megalo spat. "Anyway, dere ain't no way outta dis room, but through me, capisce? I'll ventilate ya, den go handle da cops. Ain't no one gonna show up to save-"

"_Allo_? Is that you, _cher_?" came a melodious voice from behind Megalo.

"Marie?" the shark's voice was full of disbelief. "What're you doin' here?"

"I missed you," she lied convincingly, caressing his rough cheek with the back of her hand. "And I remembered you saying you 'ad a meeting tonight at this 'otel."

"Well, it's not exactly a good time, sweetie."

"You are not 'appy to see me?" Marie pouted, false tears welling up in her eyes.

"No! Baby, it's not that," Megalo placated, lowering his gun. "It's just dat I'm a little busy. I've gotta thief in my kitchen and cops marchin' thru my lobby."

"Oh, _mon dieu_! That does sound serious."

"Tell me about it," the shark sighed, then paused as a thought struck him. "Waitaminute…how'd you get in past the guards and cops, anyway, baby?"

She laughed merrily and moved closer. "Oh, that is quite simple, Johnny," she breathed.

Megalo nodded expectantly and leaned in.

WHAM!

Megalo's eyes crossed as the skunk planted her dainty knee between his legs with incredible force. He crashed to the ground like a tree felled by a woodsman's axe.

"To put it simply, I came in with the thief."

"…ulggnnph…"

"_Oui_, I simply used you in order to take possession of that little toy that Muggshot brought you. Cormag's Claw, was it not?"

"…aarrulgnhh…"

"And now that we 'ave it, there seems little point in keeping up pretenses, you see?"

"…ugglenorph…"

"So glad you understand." She turned to Gray. "_Allons-y, chaton_. We 'ave no further business 'ere."

Gray glanced at the twitching shark. "About time, I was starting to get impatient. Let's get moving, then. We've already wasted enough time here."

The two stepped out of the kitchen and into what would soon become a pitched battlefield. Gangsters and Cannes police officers could be heard fighting fiercely for supremacy in the lobby. Bludgeons cracked against skulls and bullets whizzed through the air as the battle shifted towards the dining room.

The fine mahogany doors bulged inward and shattered, as a huge bundle of canine muscle stumbled into the room. Muggshot crashed heavily into yet another table, reducing it to splinters.

"Nice shot, Carmelita" Sly Cooper complemented as he stepped through the broken doorframe.

"Well, it's not like I could miss a target like that," she demurred, following behind. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and took aim again at Muggshot, who was already trying to pull himself upright. She called over her shoulder. "Sir, we've breached the dining room."

"Excellent," O'Connell brought down the mobster he was facing and moved to join his subordinates. "Now let's finish this."

* * *

Gray looked at Marie. "It's getting a bit too crowded for my liking. Let's leave through the window, shall we?"

She nodded silently, and the two quickly began climbing one of the room's gaudily decorated columns, making their way towards their intended exit.

* * *

"Cooper," O'Connell bellowed. "Gray and Leblanc are making a break for it! Get after them!"

Sly's eyes leapt to the two thieves as they reached the top and cracked open the window.

"We'll handle things here," Carmelita said confidently, answering his unasked question.

With a quick salute, Sly sprinted after Gray and his accomplice, dodging around a few clumsy mobsters on the way.

The wolf turned to Carmelita. "Fox, I'll leave Muggshot to you. I'll keep Don Megalo and Kidd busy."

"Got it."

He began to move away, then looked back over his shoulder.

"And try to hurry it up, will you?" he griped. "I'd rather not have to deal with both of them at once for too long."

"No problem," she joked. "I've got plenty of experience taking down Muggshot. I'll have that thickhead crying for mercy in no time flat."

"HEY!" roared the thickhead in question. "Don't talk about me like I ain't here, alright? That's rude!" He retrieved his guns from the wreckage of the table. "I'm gonna enjoy this, hag. You've had this comin' for a long time."

"I've arrested you two times before, Muggshot. I can do it again."

Muggshot spread his arms in a 'bring it on' gesture. "You know what they say: Third time's the charm. Let's rock!"

"Yeah, maybe this time you'll _stay_ in jail."

* * *

Don Megalo struggled to his feet. Moving gingerly, he stumbled along the wall.

"I don't believe 'dis. I get robbed, Marie turns on me, cops show up, and dere's still no sign of my damn bodyguard!"

"You rang?" asked the mercenary laconically, stepping from the shadows.

"Th' Hell have you been?" snarled Megalo through clenched teeth.

"Checking out the situation," answered the rabbit, smiling.

"And?"

"The cops are here?" Kidd offered helpfully.

"I KNOW THAT MUCH!"

"No, I mean there's one here, behind you," clarified Kidd.

Remus O'Connell cocked his pistol and menaced the two. "Freeze! Johnny Megalo, James Kidd. On behalf of Interpol I place you both under arrest."

Johnny Megalo, with surprising speed for someone who had just suffered such a painful injury, scuttled behind Kidd. The sight of the huge shark cowering behind a rabbit less than half his size was so ridiculous, O'Connell couldn't help but smirk.

"Can I help you?" Kidd asked Megalo, honestly puzzled.

"You're my bodyguard, aren'tcha?" whined the Don. "Guard me!"

Kidd looked surprised for a moment, but the expression was quickly replaced with one of amused disdain.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken."

"Huh?"

Kidd smiled kindly, speaking to Megalo as if to a small child. "You see, there are two Legend Brothers. My big brother handles all the bodyguarding jobs, I'm strictly sabotage and assassination."

"But, Falcone hired you-"

"Don Falcone hired me," the rabbit interjected firmly. "To insure that the meeting go down smoothly."

Megalo sputtered. "Well, then…kill this guy and all the rest of these cops, then go kill Marie and that other thief! That's what you do, right? Kill people?"

"Yes, but, I'm afraid I already failed this assignment. Once talks broke down and you and Mr. Denulla started fightin', there was no way things could go smoothly from there."

"What the hell are you playin' at?" Megalo spat. "Why the hell would you just hang around here?"

"Well, even though this job was a bust, I did have another job in this city."

"And what was dat?" Megalo asked.

Abruptly, Kidd moved so that Megalo was between him and O'Connell.

"I said FREEZE!" yelled O'Connell, firing off a warning shot into the wall.

Kidd continued pleasantly as if he hadn't even heard the shot. "Why, crippling all the foreign interests of the Falcone crime family, of course. A certain party was willing to make quite an offer."

"You bastard, you betrayed us?" Megalo's eyes practically glowed red. "Do you have any idea what the Falcones are gonna do to you?"

"Nothing whatsoever." Kidd's smile turned feral. "After all, I killed Amadeus Falcone more than a week ago. And with his operation in shambles, it's unlikely the family will recover." Kidd turned to O'Connell. "Are you getting all this?"

"Yes, thank you, now if you could both just put your hands up…"

"RRRAAAAAAAAGGH!"

Loosing a bellow of pure fury, Megalo launched himself at Kidd, countless rows of razor teeth ready to rend him to pieces. The mercenary simply hopped aside, causing the shark to take a bite from a nearby column instead. Without even turning to look at his target, he drew a large handgun from his jacket and emptied the weapon into the maddened shark's side. The gangster crumpled, jaws still locked on the pillar.

O'Connell gaped as the diminutive killer turned to him, a smile on his face.

"Now, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to turn myself in for the murder of Amadeus Falcone and the attempted murder of Johnny Megalo. "

The wolf stared at him. "Attempted?"

"Yes, he should live, partner, so long as you get him to a hospital in time. After all," he smirked. "I wasn't actually paid to kill him. That was just self-defense."

Megalo moaned. It just wasn't his day.

* * *

"So, you're the famous Sly Cooper," Gray said softly, staring at the man who now faced him. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," replied Sly wryly.

"I assume you're here to bring us in."

"That'd be a safe guess," Sly tapped his inactive stun baton lightly against his shoulder. "So, will you come quietly?"

"When I heard," Gray said, not listening. "That the famous thief Sly Cooper had hung up his mask and joined Interpol, I could hardly believe it. What could possibly make him give up the family business so easily?"

"With all due respect," Sly replied. "You don't know a damn thing about me or my family."

Gray stroked his chin. "True. Very interesting." He scratched his head thoughtfully. "So it's to be a fight, then."

"Looks that way."

"I have to warn you, though," Gray sighed. "I've had a bit of a rough night, so I'm not too inclined to hold back very much.."

"Heist not go so well?" Sly asked, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I heard you were supposed to be good at dealing with the unexpected, Gray."

Gray wagged a gloved finger, "Generally, yes, but some of tonight's events…" he indicated the bundle that held the dagger. "…Have been a bit out of the ordinary, even for someone like me, I'm afraid."

With a quick twisting motion, gleaming three-inch metal claws slid out of the tips of Gray's gloved fingers.

"So given that, I want to be going and get this job over with as soon as possible."

Sly shook his head. "Can't let you do that, Gray."

The cat's glasses glinted. "All right, then. Don't be blaming me if you get hurt."

He lowered his stance and crouched like a wild beast ready to pounce. Sly likewise tensed, gripping his weapon tightly. The tension was suddenly broken by a light, feminine cough.

"Ah, _pardon_," Marie said, laying a gentle hand on Gray's shoulder. "I know that you two strapping men are ready for your great duel in the rain…but please, leave this one to me, _chaton_."

Gray raised an eyebrow.

"I mean," she continued answering his unasked question. "You are the one best suited to get to the _rendezvous, non?_"

"Maybe," he grunted. "But can you really delay this guy, newbie? After all, it is-"

"-Sly Cooper. _Oui_, _chaton. Je le connais bien,_" she smiled enigmatically. "I can 'andle it."

Gray straightened up and wiped the rain from his glasses with a damp sleeve. "So you're sure you want to do this yourself, then?"

"Oh, _bien sur," _she whispered hungrily. "A chance to test this Sly Cooper? I must insist."

Gray looked at her for a moment, then shrugged helplessly. "If you really must insist," he sighed, retracted his claws, and turned to leave. "I'll leave it to you, then."

"Not so fast, pal!" Sly objected, dashing to intercept the feline. "We're not finished here."

"Some other time," Gray waved goodbye as Marie dashed to intercept the raccoon, blocking his baton with the handle of her umbrella.

"Come now, Monsieur Cooper," purred the skunk. "We 'ave only just met. Let us take the time to get to know one another."

"Sorry, lady, but I don't think my partner'd approve of me 'getting to know' a lady while on the job," Sly replied, trying to sidestep past her.

Marie blocked his path again, wielding the closed parasol like a sword. "Oh, _monsieur_ you misunderstand. I have always believed that the best way to get to know someone is to give them a sound thrashing. Nothing quite like the fear of death to get one's adrenaline to rush."

"Whatever works for you, I guess," Sly said wryly. "But I'm not sure if I like the idea of attacking an unarmed woman."

She giggled. "Silly boy. 'ooever said that I am unarmed?" With a sharp twist and a flourish, she yanked on the grip of her parasol, revealing a long rapier-like blade hidden in the handle.

Sly's eyes widened slightly. "Ah."

"Now I armed, _oui_," Marie laughed again, flourishing with her weapon. "So I trust you are over your…reluctance?"

"Would it matter even if I said no?"

"Of course not. _En garde!_"

* * *

Gray easily loped along, drifting across the rooftop like a shadow. Pausing, he glanced back to where he had left Sly and Marie, then over towards the building's fire escape.

"You can stop skulking over there, you know. I see you."

At once, a lanky figure stood up from where he crouched. "Not bad, punk."

The cat cocked his head in recognition. "Oh, it's you again. Johnson, wasn't it?"

"Jackson," the Dalmatian corrected proudly. "Inkspot Jackson."

Gray shrugged. "I don't really care, honestly. You're in the way."

The dog snarled, hackles raised. "You and dat skunk broad made a fool outta me."

"We didn't really need much help with that," murmured Gray under his breath.

Jackson continued as if he hadn't heard. "You made a fool outta me, and den you robbed the boss. Not only dat, you got the gall to sic the cops on us? That's three strikes, punk, and it's gonna cost ya. Three strikes and you're out. I'm taking you down."

Gray raised an eyebrow and looked askance at the Dalmatian.

"No jokes, punk," said Jackson, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "I'll bring you down, and then I'll take out the cop and that skunk broad. Then I'll drag ya in front of the boss. When I bring him the thieves what robbed him, I'll get a big bonus. Taking down that cop'll just be icing on the cake." Jackson shuffled his playing cards absently with one hand. "Hell, da boss might even give me a little territory of my own."

"So, let me see if I have this right," Gray wiped rainwater from his glasses. "You intend to, erm…'take down' Sly Cooper, the newbie, and myself all on your own? That's a little optimistic of you."

"No problem," scoffed the dog. "None of you gotta gun, and when you try ta move…" With a quick motion, he flung one of his playing cards. The projectile thunked into the roof a foot from Gray's own foot, its razor edge slicing a groove an inch deep. "…you'll be drawing dead."

Gray eyed the card and sniffed. He shook his head sadly, a curious little half-smile on his face. "I'll have to decline."

"Eh?"

Gray spread his arms and shrugged. "I'm not much for card games, really, so I'll have to decline," he reiterated. "I've had a bit of a surreal night, you see, and I'm already running a bit behind schedule."

The Dalmatian growled menacingly. "You make it sound like I'm givin' ya a choice."

"Actually, you're the one who needs to make a choice," the cat informed him.

"Oh?"

"You can walk away, or you can bleed,"

Jackson sneered. "Oh there'll be some bleedin' all right, punk!"

"Oh yes," Gray twisted his wrists, extending his metal claws once again. With a rueful chuckle, he adjusted his glasses with the palm of his hand. They glinted menacingly. "On that subject we are in complete agreement."


End file.
